


Tides That Bind

by Winterswild



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Invasion, Aliens, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:15:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29244186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterswild/pseuds/Winterswild
Summary: Earth is invaded, and when food and water become scarce, Piccolo and Z Senshi find themselves fighting without the advantage.
Relationships: Android 18/Krillin (Dragon Ball), Piccolo/Son Gohan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Tides That Bind

**Author's Note:**

> Re-write of my original fiction: Tide.
> 
> AU - Canon divergence 
> 
> I don't own Dragon ball, Dragon Ball Z or any of its characters.

**Chapter One**

He clutched the steering wheel, turning it frantically as his fingers ached. Glancing quickly in the rear view mirror, his sharp eyes spotted his pursuer behind a wall of dust. Grimacing, he swung the wheel left, wincing as the tyres screeched. The man to his left leaned out of the open window, his shirt catching on the vehicle’s damaged door. The tearing fabric felt loud and alarming in Piccolo’s sensitive ears.

Goten’s voice was strained but firm.

“Once more!”

Piccolo nodded mutely and drove the accelerator to the floor, swinging the car round further. The thudding of three more shots rocked the jeep and Piccolo flinched, gritting his sharp teeth. Goten saw his chance, one more shot. Rearing back into his seat with a sigh of relief, the young man turned to the Namek.

“Got him”

Piccolo straightened the SUV, this time pushing his foot down gently. His deep voice rumbled when he spoke.

“How long do we have?”

Goten shook his watch loose, ignoring the dirt and dark marks that marred his hairy arms; the dishevelled state did nothing to curb the teenager’s tone. He grinned with his response. 

“Half hour, if that”

That’s how long it would take before someone, somewhere, would realise there was a problem.

“We should make it”

Piccolo hated the ever so slight worried tone that his voice seemed to drum lately, he direly missed being certain. 

They were both wearing the Capsule Corp security uniform, dark in colour, padded out and bullet proof. Piccolo’s face was semi hidden with a cap and sunglasses but his long ears made a mockery of his disguise. He felt ridiculous. Goten’t wild hair poked out of his hat at every angle. Piccolo sneered.

_ What a pair we make. _

The young teen glanced to his right, taking a rare opportunity to observe the Namek. Piccolo looked tired, his cheek bones jutted out from underneath the dark glasses and his red banded wrist had worked loose of the security jacket; it looked thin.

Times were hard.  _ And they’re getting harder _ . Goten thought bitterly.

Piccolo held the wheel steady as they drove through the countryside. Towering redwoods remained untouched and a part of him smiled at that, the part that wasn’t exhausted. He spared a glance at Goten, who was staring out of the passenger window, hair blowing with a smile on his face. His expression softened, he had grown fond of the youth over the years, he reminded him so much of Gohan. Well, except Goten had learned how to use a gun, not write essays for college. 

He dragged his thoughts away and focused on the road. As they passed the endless forest Piccolo caught sight of a lake and where the sun touched it, it glistened. He felt the familiar sting of thirst, the coarseness of his throat making itself well and truly known. He tore his dark eyes away from it. 

_ How weak I’ve become. _

He felt shame tinge his cheeks, and fan his temper.

_ Bastards. _

The water tables had been contaminated first, or so Bulma had eventually reasoned. Something had tainted the rivers underneath the ground. A few months passed but eventually every pool of water had become poisonous, every raindrop, even the frost on the leaves. Sickly water recycled by the earth but never cleaned. People died, more quickly as time went on, as the water’s dirt reached into the food, the livestock. The Z senshi had watched on as neighbours killed each other for bottled water. The world was in such a panic that they didn’t have the time, or the energy, to look for a deeper problem. 

A new hope, once demolished governments came to power. News reporters would speak rapidly, excited, of a new era. Saviours had come to put an end to the worldwide mayhem. Aliens had come to save the human race. Order was established, new rules were put in place and people were grateful, humanity went back to something close enough to normal that there were no complaints. A rationing system for safe food and water based on earned credits, through work, procreation or labour. They were hailed heroes. 

The Namek had searched his mind for some recognition, from Kami or even Nail, of these creatures. Goku had tried to contact King Kai. The Lookout fell, tumbling from the clouds like a fallen castle from the sky. Piccolo had looked for Dende for days. They all had. That was years ago. 

The first time they had run into one of the aliens, Piccolo had been surprised. The creatures stood at his height, all limbs and pale, veritable giants to the humans. The one they attacked had so much blue in its wide orbs that Piccolo couldn’t see the iris. Maybe they didn’t have one. Goku, Gohan and Trunks lunged at the oppressor, along with the Namek, throwing punches and kicks faster than the naked eye could see. They were physically strong, but poor fighters and it should have meant an easy victory. Goku pinned the creature to the ground, raising a hand hot with energy, ready to release. The piercing light vanished, Gohan had leaped to fly at the alien but instead just landed belly down into the earth, coughing in the dirt. Trunks looked at Piccolo with wide eyes and the Namek swallowed. He felt drained, in fact, he felt empty. Like his life force had been leaking and he hadn’t noticed. 

Their plight came to an abrupt end. The creature had laughed, a long rasping sound. Piccolo remembered that. 

Energy was a reservoir, and theirs had run dry, it had kindly informed them. Sparing them a mocking smile before wandering off into the trees, to go about whatever business they had interrupted. 

When the four of them had returned, Bulma had good and bad news. Her voice was hesitant.

“I’ve found the culprit in the water. It’s almost...well, the closest thing would be some kind of artificial parasite. It’s latched onto every molecule, replicates like crazy and so far, I can’t find anything to neutralise it. It doesn’t seem to affect wildlife, or animals, but it’s toxic to humans. It interferes with vitamin C metabolism” 

Bar Gohan, most wore an expression of confusion, and Vegeta spoke harshly.

“So take some of those vitamin supplements you’re so fond of!”

She tutted at her partner’s tone, but replied calmly. 

“We’d still not be able to metabolise it, let alone where we would get it. Natural or otherwise”

Bulma paused, before continuing.

“The food and water they provide has fewer parasites but it’s drugged. I’ve found a way to filter them out, but along with a bunch of other stuff so it’s not ideal, but it will do for now”

Gohan asked the pertinent question no one else had yet.

“Is that why we can’t raise our ki?”

Bulma pursed her lips.

“No, sorry. I don’t see how they’re related”

She didn’t explain what the drug was, only that it made people more malleable, happier to go along with the ‘new world order’. Mankind wasn’t even aware it had been enslaved, any protests or problems were quickly silenced, and the Z senshi had walked a fine line so far. Eventually, they realised that a little bit of playing along would be necessary, in order to survive long enough to do what they did best, save the world. Limited supplies were given to those who worked and so everyone had a job, even Piccolo, and those supplies would be filtered to make them consumable. 

Or so they thought. Within a few months, Piccolo had grown thinner, they had donated their own to double his ration at one point but it did little good. Whatever nutrients the Namek needed had been filtered out. The same compounds were negligible in the food. He was given a choice between being hungry or being servile, he didn’t even consider it. He consumed everything he could stomach, and they all trained but it was harder to build muscle. Actions they thought simply were now a strain. 

A bump in the road rocked the jeep, bringing Piccolo to his senses. The jerk reminded Piccolo of an injury to his side and he grumbled, adjusting and turning to check on Goten. He was daydreaming with a far away look on his face.

Once the globe of Capsule Corp appeared ahead of them, Piccolo breathed a sigh of relief. They drove inside the compound and parked the jeep in the cavernous garage. Switching off the ignition, he grabbed a bag that lay on the backseat and soon the two of them were walking through the obnoxiously bright halls of Bulma’s labs. The acrid light made his eyes water and he was suddenly aware that he was cold, and dirty. He slung the bag at Goten, speaking quickly while walking in the opposite direction.

“Give Bulma that, tell Gohan I’ll be there after I’ve cleaned up”

He knew Gohan would be concerned, it continually irked him that the demi-Saiyan remained that way permanently now. He eventually reached his living quarters, given to them all by a generous Bulma who had said something. He couldn’t quite remember. Oh.

_ Safety in numbers. _

His mind supplied, miserably. Capsule Corp was still a massive industry, its company directors took care of the negotiations with the  _ Zatori _ , a term that meant government in the invader’s native tongue. She supplied them with her science and inventions and in return they left her to her own devices, for the most part.

Piccolo removed his sunglasses as he padded through the modest living room; a space that consisted of books, a sofa, a coffee table and two lamps. Said books were strewn here and there, some open with scribbled notes in the margins, beneath and on top of files and papers. His terrible handwriting marred them all. He had never quite mastered writing with his clawed hands. He opened the bathroom door, leaving it ajar, and looked in the bathroom mirror. The image earned him a grimace. Gingerly, he removed his jacket and he frowned as his fingers slipped in wet, still peeling the fabric from his side. He had thought the bullet had grazed him but it had penetrated. His body shivered and he belatedly realised it wasn’t cold, he was in shock. He hissed as he removed his shirt, noting that another one of his possessions would now be covered in blood. 

Piccolo grabbed a bright yellow cloth and soaked it under the tap. He detested running water, it made him dizzy with temptation. He had gotten used to the constant feel of thirst but every now and then, it burned a little more brightly. He ringed the cloth before wiping his face, neck and shoulders, rinsed it, then pressed it against his side. He wasn’t sure if it helped or made it worse. He so badly wanted a long drink and he closed his ebony eyes against the onslaught of sensations.

“I thought you might be in here”

Gohan cocked his head to the side, observing the Namek. 

Without his shirt, the taller man looked slim, not skinny, yet. Pink muscles were toned but ever so slightly stretched, a shadow of his former physique. His chest was still strapping, but by nature, Gohan knew that Namekians weren’t boney. Typically, the extra layers of fat gave him a rounded off appearance, or it had. With Dende, it had made him look like a cherub. When he’d remarked on it, Piccolo had said it provided extra padding against kicks and blows, and to shut up about it. Now however, without the fat, it made him look boyish. Like he was nothing but limbs and long ears. 

“I’m still a lot bigger than you”

Piccolo’s snarl made Gohan blink before putting up a mental block.

“That’s rude, you know”

Gohan looked a little rough, now preferring to wear his hair a little long and let plenty of stubble take residence on his ungroomed face. He felt a little guilty at his own broad, muscled body, his Saiyan genes too strong to give a shit about something as trivial as a famine. He had made this mistake, though, to underestimate the now lithe Namek. Piccolo still packed a punch that sent him flying. A pang of misery hit him as he thought about the good old days, training in the wilderness, eating apples and laughing by the fire. Gohan noticed a purple, dripping cloth peeking out from the other side of Piccolo’s torso.

“You’re injured!”

He went to snatch the towel, earning him a growl as Piccolo tried to hide the injury. A short struggle ensued, then Gohan was guiding Piccolo out of the bathroom along with a towel.

“I know what I’m doing”

Piccolo did work in the local hospital, but Gohan doubted even his mentor’s ability to remove a bullet from his own side. 

“Right, and I’m sure getting shot was part of your plan”

Arguing came so easy now, like they were on the tip of everyone’s tongue. Piccolo scowled.

“Yeah, I thought it would be the highlight of my never fucking ending day”

Gohan hesitated, noting that Piccolo had been swearing more and more lately. They all were.

“Just let me help you!”

“I don’t need  _ your _ help”

Gohan huffed, knowing that this could go on for a while. He wondered if Piccolo just enjoyed being difficult. Piccolo lowered his tone, closing his eyes in resignation and pain.

“Grab my kit”

Gohan went to comply when the said kit was handed to him. Smooth hands pushed blonde hair out of brighter than blue eyes.  _ Like looking into the ocean _ . Gohan remembered Krillin gushing.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Piccolo was startled but didn’t let it show. Stealth was Eighteen’s sixth sense.

_ Sneaky bitch. _

Piccolo grumbled under his breath. He and Eighteen had become something close to friends in recent months. They were both in the medical profession and had stayed up late together studying, or arguing, as Gohan called it. The demi-Saiyan couldn’t help a little sneer come into his voice. 

“Stalking the halls?”

She raised a delicate brow and smirked.

“No, I could hear you girls arguing from the kitchen”

With that, she helped Piccolo remove the bullet and stitched his wound. She tried to make small talk but was about as proficient in the activity as the Namek was.

“You’re filthy”

Piccolo just grunted. She looked up at him, and a ghost of concern reached her big blue eyes.

“I think this is going to scar”

Gohan smirked. That was as close as the android would get to sentimentality and he supposed it was fitting. Piccolo grunted his reply.

“It’s hardly my biggest problem at the moment”

With that, Gohan grounded the conversation, his tone turning stern now that Piccolo’s wound had been dressed.

“I’ll see you both when you’re done. Bulma’s a little puzzled at what you brought back with you”

They both nodded and he left, sparing a glance at Piccolo briefly before exiting. Eighteen watched him go, chuckling, and she turned to the seated Namek.

“Well look who’s become a badass decision maker”

Piccolo smirked, falling into the conversation more easily than he’d have liked.

“I think it suits him, better than Goku’s trust everyone and hope for the best technique”

She smiled coolly.

“You know, I think it’s sweet”

Piccolo narrowed his eyes.

“What is?”

She grabbed his cheek between her finger and thumb and pulled.

“That Gohan couldn’t wait to check on his precious Piccolo”

Piccolo snarled and batted her hand away, evoking hearty laughter from the once deadly android. The Namek was fuming, she crawled under his skin. 

“Oh,” she tried to speak while laughing, “how the tables have-”

She didn’t get to finish the sentence, Piccolo grabbed her face and pushed her roughly backwards, bandages flying everywhere. 

\-----

Bulma’s groomed fingers slid across the pages of the documents Piccolo had brought and her face screwed up in confusion. 

_ How am I supposed to understand this? _

They were clearly schematics but the diagrams and images were peculiar and unfamiliar, with notations badly written in an alien language. She sighed. They had risked their lives by breaking into the high security munitions plant, and stolen what could very well be some scientist’s lunchtime daydream. 

She sat at the kitchen table with Chi-Chi and Gohan, both of whom were rifling through the papers. Chi-Chi, as always, was well dressed but her tousled hair was tied up and she pushed hand into it in concentration. Bulma smiled, her female companion had changed a lot. She was about to get some tea when the door opened.

Piccolo entered the room along with the majority of the senshi, but lingered in the back, pulling at his loose fitted jumper. The dark denim jeans weren’t any more comfortable but he had long since stopped wearing his gi. The garments did nothing but accentuate how scrawny he felt, and he rarely trained now. A few cuts and scrapes marred his alien features but his face was as stern as ever. Goku, Vegeta and Eighteen sat down in the spare kitchen chairs, while Goten, Trunks, Tien and Krillin stood. Seventeen and Yamcha worked weekends. Bulma remembered when they would gather like this to launch an attack on the red ribbon army, find the Dragonballs, or plan a trip to outer space. A sad smile reached her lips before she adopted a teacher like tone.

“Well Piccolo. You risked your identity, your life...Goten,” she paused for dramatic effect, “for what?!”

She grabbed the papers and waved them around to prove her point.

“The unreadable musings of some scientist!”

That stung and the Namek bit his tongue to save from shouting. His anger slowly bubbled as she continued on, before Gohan interrupted.

“Actually....from what I can see, I think they’re building something”

Piccolo turned to his former student and Bulma blinked, raising a fine blue brow. Gohan’s cheeks reddened at the sudden attention and he spoke quickly, raising a hand to rub the back of his head.

“Well, I’ve been studying their language and I can read a little, and I mean a little, but I definitely saw a word…”

He grabbed the papers out of her hand, ignoring her flabbergasted expression.

“Yeah, here it is.  _ Eldamanet. _ They use it at the office, it means prototype”

Vegeta looked at the demi-Saiyan with quiet respect, he had hated the child of his rival at one time. Over the years, he had come to value the young man, more than he’d ever care to admit. His eyes were dark and serious as he roughly addressed Gohan from his seat at the table.

“What is it? A weapon?”

At this, the whole room erupted in heated debate of what it could mean. They had, after all, had plenty of time to come up with their own wild theories.

“Hang on everyone,” Goku stood and attempted to quiet the room, “let him finish”

Gohan chuckled.

“I can’t tell if it’s a weapon, I mean we should assume it is because of where we found these but...we need to study it further”

Vegeta grumbled.  _ More waiting. _

He turned to address Piccolo, unable to contain his opinion.

“You know Namek, it would have been helpful for you to bring the actual weapon. Then we wouldn’t need to spend the rest of our lives trying to work this out”

Piccolo narrowed his eyes, how he hated that little Saiyan.

“There wasn’t time for that, it’s heavily guarded and-,” he abruptly stopped talking, instead taking on a much more familiar tact. “If you want it so damn much why don’t you haul your tiny ass down there and get it!”

The comment made the smaller man leap towards the Namek and they landed on the floor, grappling and snarling. Gohan rolled his eyes, the two men were a nightmare, not to mention dangerous to his peace of mind. He went to separate the two when Piccolo hissed, Vegeta had gripped his wound and Gohan was willing to bet it was deliberate. Despite this, they would be begrudging friends again when the day was over, and as usual, their relationship continued to puzzle the demi-Saiyan. 

More chairs were brought in and soon everyone was all but forced to sit at the large round table. Even Piccolo had been maneuvered into sitting, after a period of tutting and glaring. The sound of general chit chat filled the air, along with the sounds of pots and pans being rescued from their resting places. Tien and Chi-Chi talked quietly as they started preparing some food. The atmosphere was lighter but Piccolo still felt the pull of fatigue at his senses, he glanced up at the clock. 18:05. Breaking into that damn place had taken all night and he wasn’t even sure they’d picked up the right papers. Eighteen drew him from his musings.

“So, how’s work?”

Piccolo glanced to his right, she had taken her usual seat next to him. 

“Fine. You?”

She ignored the question and instead, continued.

“When are you back?”

“Monday”

It was Friday, he had taken the day off for their midnight adventure. _ And it would bloody well cost me. _ His ration would be a day short when he received it next week.

“Long weekend, you part-timers”

Piccolo looked at her incredulously and she knew he didn’t find her jokes particularly amusing.

“I’ll trade you”

She sniggered.

“I’m okay. Somehow I don’t think you’d make a very good doctor”

She wasn’t wrong. They had all been a little surprised when she applied for medical training, and had all but dragged Piccolo along for the paramedic sign up. It suited him well, he had a gruelling time catching up with the education, even with his fusion with Kami and Nail, but he had almost enjoyed it. What he lacked for in bedside manor he made up for with focused precision. Of course he had wanted to fight, to join the military or something along those lines, but that would mean working against his own people. He laughed at that thought.

_ My people. _

Security paid too little, and he made the most of his better pay as a paramedic. Anything with a low water content he usually passed on, with the exception of a few items he’d developed a fondness for. Coffee cake, for example. He even earned a little money, which went towards their collective pot. Piccolo leaned back in his chair and regarded the android silently. He hadn’t known her long, the real her, and a part of him wondered if he’d regret that one day. A cup of coffee was placed in front of him and he looked up; confusion clouded his eyes, no one was there.

“Down here”

Piccolo glanced down and smirked at the glare of contempt Krillin was giving him.

“We can’t all be as tall as trees, Piccolo.”  _ Or as green _ , he thought silently.

He scoffed, muttering some slur under his breath. Eighteen punched him playfully in mock anger and the trio laughed. Piccolo caught himself.

_ When did I become so entrenched in this? _

\-----

21:38 glared in pale blue from the digital clock on the coffee table. Piccolo sat in his living room thumbing through copies of the papers they’d found. Rest had eluded him and his thoughts swarmed. Huffing, he dropped them to the low table. He stood and raised his arms above his head, stretching, stroking the ceiling as he did. He always did. His arms dropped as something dawned on him.

He was wracked with feeling, emotion. He scowled. _ How pathetic. _

Piccolo had been particularly vague about his plan. Talking the others through the route they’d take, how they’d escape whilst avoiding any specifics. It had been painful. He would take the jeep, his driving skills far easily being the best despite having failed his test in life gone by. Goten would stand guard, a little back up that was a mean shot. As he went through the details Gohan had remarked on his good ‘homework skills’ but he had remembered Goku narrowing his eyes at the Namek’s sudden wealth of information. Piccolo had stared, willing the Saiyan into silence. It had worked, but at some point the dopey hero was bound to mention it. 

The annoying turn of events had started two weeks previous, when Piccolo had been walking through the hospital. He had been wearing a slightly blood stained dark blue uniform with a plastic cup of black coffee in his hands. It was just after 04:00 and his shift finished at 6. He paused while looking at the watch on his wrists.  _ How human I’ve become.  _

He passed two wards, his keen ears trying to ignore wails and moans of pain, walking slowly to avoid drawing attention to himself. He would train until 10 when he returned home, then would catch up on some sleep. He always seemed to be catching up. Eighteen would start work when he finished and a little part of him looked forward to crossing her path in the parking lot. He looked out of the windows lining the hall, night twinkled back at him. He felt a little stuck in the world of humans, like he had been sucked into their routines. A usual scowl graced his elfin features.

He turned a corner and trundled down the corridor, the overhead lights were still dim here for the sleeping patients. He had nearly reached the end when a container rolled out of a doorway and softly bumped into his boot. 

“He...help”

He heard the faint words and hesitated. He tried to ignore the ple and felt burning anger that he wouldn’t be able to.  _ Since when did I care so damn much?  _ He strode into the room, intending to clamp down on the whiny patient. 

_ If caring is a problem boy, you’re in the wrong profession _

The Namek bristled at the firm but strained voice. He frowned when he realised that the voice had been in his head, not spoken out loud. Moving closer, he cocked his head back in displeasure when he realised what he was. 

The man’s eyes were flooded with dark blue and they sat in wild contrast to his creamy skin. Dark hair poked out in various angles, clearly dishevelled from painful rest. He looked a good few years older than Piccolo, though this did nothing to evoke any sympathy in the Namek. Piccolo bared his fangs as he spoke.

“Stay out of my mind creature”

The older man simply lay there, bandaged up, looking about as menacing as the white plastic cup still clutched in his hand. Piccolo kept up his guard. The  _ Illyrians  _ had proved to be a devious race and it was a trait that the Namek despised.

Piccolo waited and grew irritated when nothing transpired. He turned to leave, wanting to be far away from the ailing man’s influence. 

“I can help you”

The jade man halted, intrigued. They had long since run out of ideas and options, he suspected the old cretin knew this. 

“And just how can  _ you _ help?”

Eventually, the Illyrian spoke again, a strong accent on his tongue. 

“You look at me...like I am something rotten. Why is it you hate our kind so much?”

Piccolo tried to tone down his anger in case it rallied any of the nurses but he couldn’t help himself.

“You know exactly why, you invaded our world and now...even in death you’re a drain on our resources”

The alien man looked at him from under dark lashes, eyes wide.

“You think I have any control over the actions of my people?”

“You’re here aren’t you? If you’re so opposed, why didn’t you stay at home?”

His question was ignored, instead, he was met with an argument he didn’t see coming.

“This isn’t your world either, Namek”

He spat his words and Piccolo couldn’t help but defend himself.

“This is my home”

He glanced at the breathing tube attached to the old man. He considered removing it. 

“If this is your idea of help, you can keep it”

Piccolo turned to leave but was caught once again.

“It’s going to get worse”

The Namek hated this game, but at the moment, information was gold. He spoke with his back still turned to the Illyrian. 

“What do you mean?”

“This energy isn’t enough to sustain us. We need…we need more”

Frustration was clear in his growling bass.

“I don’t understand”

“They’re building something East of this city, I can’t tell you what. But it has to be stopped”

Piccolo was losing his patience. _ Cryptic asshole _ .

“What is it?”

When he didn’t get a response he moved to physically get one but was caught off guard by the sad look in his blue eyes.

“I can tell you where it is”

“Why would you do that?”

“We’re not all here to hurt you. No race is  _ full  _ of murderers”

Piccolo considered his options. There was a good chance this was at best, bullshit, and at worse, a trick. He closed his eyes, and spoke quietly. 

“I’m listening”

The next day Piccolo learned that the Illyrian’s name had been Elamar and he had been an engineer. In what, he didn’t know. The Namek had returned the next night, to question the man further but the room had been empty.  _ Typical. _

He went to turn around and caught a glimmer of light at the foot of the bed. He reached down to look at the chart that had been left. He hesitated before opening the file, expecting some sort of deception.

DECEASED

He didn’t know why it had bothered him, but even his chest had burned a little.

Piccolo glanced back at the clock, realising that he spent a lot of time doing so. 21:59.

Elemar had arranged for a younger Illyrian to let them into the munitions complex, a younger man that stood two inches taller than Piccolo did. The man’s son perhaps. The creature didn’t appear to work in the building but could somehow grant them access, he didn’t ask how. He had followed the old man’s instructions to the letter but it had gone wrong, security had appeared out of nowhere and he was unable to get access to the second floor. He had grabbed the next best thing. He remembered the labyrinth of long corridors and cold metal, door after door to who knows where. Goten had waited outside.

Piccolo crashed back to his senses when he heard a knock on his door.

“Come in”

Gohan pushed the door open, popping his head through first. The Namek raised an eyebrow.

“What are you waiting for?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt”

“Interrupt what?”

Gohan laughed. Manors were a concept Piccolo would never quite grasp.

“Nothing, I just wanted to tell you my thoughts”

Gohan had his own copy of the papers. Piccolo gestured for the demi-Saiyan to sit down.

“Go on then”

Gohan chuckled to himself at the impatience. 

“From what I can gather, I don’t think it’s a weapon exactly. Rather, something that can absorb energy, massive amounts of it. Oh, and this is just the power cell I think”

“Piccolo thought for a moment.

“What do they need so much energy for?”

Gohan shrugged.

“I don’t know, but judging by this they need a lot of it”

Piccolo sighed, he felt like the day was getting longer. Gohan saw the fatigue in the Namek’s dark eyes and changed the subject.

“So, how’s work?”

Piccolo groaned.  _ Why does everyone keep asking that? _

“Fine.” He waited, irritated, for ages before realising that Gohan was waiting for him to return the question.

“You?” 

“Yeah, not too bad. I much prefer teaching at the university”

Piccolo nodded and asked.

“How’s Pan?”

His former student smiled genuinely.

“She’s good, she started school this month. Seems to be getting on okay”

It was September already. Had it really been a year since all this started?

“She’s even made some friends”

Gohan had a sadness in his eyes. Videl had been protesting when she was caught in the winter riots. It had been bloody and one of the biggest displays of brutality the Illyrians had demonstrated. They never did find her body and Gohan wondered if she might still be out there somewhere. Piccolo wanted to comfort him but didn’t know what to say, he settled on the first trivial thing he could think of.

“What did you have for...dinner?”

Piccolo felt stupid, but the words had been said. Gohan creased his brow,  _ what? _

“Uh...pasta. Tien saved you some, it’s in the fridge. Why?”

The Namek paused, not knowing where he was going with this conversation.

“Right, I just...wondered”

Piccolo was becoming distressed at himself and had a peculiar look on his face. 

Gohan couldn’t prevent the low chuckle at Piccolo’s odd behaviour. The tension that had suddenly arose dissipated and the Namek chuckled a little as well. They had grown distant in recent years and living in close quarters had been difficult at first, awkward even. Now, they could talk for hours albeit Gohan doing most of the talking, or sit in a comfortable silence. Piccolo felt the weight of his eyelids and spoke up.

“You should rest, you’ve got a day’s training ahead of you”

Gohan smirked, he could tell that the jade warrior was exhausted. 

“Sure, see you in the morning”

He smiled at his former mentor and left, closing the door softly behind him. 

Piccolo didn’t sleep often but he had all but collapsed on the best, in his clothes, and was sleeping deeply after only a couple of minutes. 

  
  


**W.**


End file.
